


March

by lemonsorbae



Series: Shoe Box Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsorbae/pseuds/lemonsorbae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's finally Spring!</p>
            </blockquote>





	March

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from [tumblr](http://jimmynovakisaved.tumblr.com/post/81234480614/march)  
> . Thanks for sticking with me.

Mid-March is when winter finally begins to thaw and the first push of spring can be seen outside on the trees and in the planters on the roof.

Castiel sits for hours at a time some days, wrapped in one of his old Baja hoodies, examining the tiny green sprouts peeking through the recently thawed dirt in the flower boxes and making sure they're getting enough sunlight and water. The previous year he and Dean had planted flower bulbs and several different types of fruits and vegetables and he's determined this year to raise them up again.

Early mornings are his favorite time to creep up to the roof, long before the rest of the city is awake, and watch the sun rise on the horizon, bright and strong like it hasn't been in months, before tending to the plants.

Some days Dean will hug him tighter, pull him closer to his chest and mutter at Castiel to "stay in bed," but other mornings, like this one for instance, Dean is in too deep of a sleep to even notice when Castiel rolls from between his arms and climbs out of bed.

Castiel shuffles to their dresser and pulls out one of Dean's henleys and some of his old flannels and dresses quietly as Vincent twines around his ankles hoping to get a scratch behind the ears before Castiel goes outside.

After tugging on the flannel bottoms Castiel bends over and gives Vincent a quick scratch before grabbing his sketchbook and the afghan off the couch, slipping his feet into his moccasins, and leaving his and Dean's apartment as quietly as he can.

Up on the roof the air is crisp, a bit thin from the tendrils of winter that still cling to the air, but not uncomfortably so. Castiel settles into the hammock Dean set up a few weeks ago and pulls the afghan up around his shoulders as he watches the sky turn orange and pink with the rising sun.

He's alone for maybe twenty minutes before the squeak of the roof door sounds behind him and Dean practically stumbles into view, hair in disarray, eyelids still droopy with sleep. Castiel smiles up at him as Dean rubs at his eyes.

"Why d'you always come up here without me?" Dean mutters as he climbs onto the hammock with Castiel and wiggles himself under the blanket. Castiel maneuvers himself to fit the other man on the hammock and allows Dean to wrap his arms around his waist and push his cold nose up against Castiel's neck.

"I didn't want to wake you," Castiel offers as Dean works a leg over Castiel's. The man is an octopus whether he likes to admit it or not.

"Mmmm," Dean murmurs and then his body falls heavy and still next to Castiel's and he knows the other man is on his way back to sleep.

Within less than thirty minutes, Castiel follows him.

 

Castiel wakes again sometime later to Dean pressing kisses gently against his neck while a hand slips beneath the henley Castiel is wearing and rubs a warm palm up his abdomen before coming to rest over his heart.

"You awake?" Dean asks when Castiel shifts against him.

"If I say 'yes' are you going to stop?" Castiel replies.

Dean bites down gently on Castiel's neck, worrying the flesh with his teeth before swiping a tongue over the spot to soothe it. "No," he finally answers.

"Then, yes."

"Good."

Dean nudges Castiel until he's turned on to his side and then sidles up behind him, going about sucking marks all along the column of the back of his neck. The hand resting on Castiel's chest slides back down his stomach and pushes at the waistband of the flannels Castiel's wearing. They're a bit too big on him and so they slide off his hips easily, Dean pushing at them until Castiel's cock and ass are covered by nothing but the afghan thrown over them.

Castiel feels Dean fumble around behind him, working himself out of his own bottoms no doubt, and then shivers at the press of Dean's hard length against the crease of his ass.

Dean's fingers are warm and sure when they close around Castiel, stroking from base to tip until Castiel is hard, and when Dean makes a tight fist around him, Castiel's hips buck up of their own accord causing the hammock to sway precariously from side to side.

They've knocked it over once already. Castiel still has the bruise.

Behind him Dean begins to thrust shallowly against him while his hand works over Castiel's arousal. Castiel lets his head fall back onto Dean's shoulder and gives himself over to the gripping heat sliding up and down him in measured strokes, letting out a low moan when Dean thumbs at his slit.

They lay there like that, Dean working them both to completion, for several minutes before Castiel remembers, randomly, that it's the first Saturday of Spring.

"Dean," Castiel gasps out on a particularly satisfying upstroke.

"Hmm?"

"The Farmer's Market opens today-" he stops briefly to breathe through the twist Dean adds to his strokes and then continues, "I wanted to go down and get some things before it- ah- gets too busy."

"Cas," is Dean's grunted response. His thrusts are becoming rougher in a way Castiel recognizes means Dean looking for release and so Castiel pushes himself back against Dean as Dean's heat rubs along him in a frantic drive of his hips. "Fuck, baby," Dean mumbles, "right there. Just like that."

When Dean doesn't finish answering his request, Castiel prods again, "Dean, the Farmer's Market?"

Dean huffs as his grip around Castiel tightens. Cas' mind temporarily blanks and he thrusts into the tight heat around him again, but stops as soon as he feels the hammock rustling back and forth with abandon.

Damn hammock.

"How many times- do I have to tell you?" Dean asks, "No to-do lists during sex."

Castiel chooses not to respond, wiggling against Dean until the other man lets out a low moan. The friction between them must be enough because within a few short moments Dean is muffling a groan against Castiel's neck and shaking through his orgasm, the hammock rocking wildly beneath them. He breathes against Castiel's neck and continues pumping his fist until his body jerks and he spills all over Dean's hand and his own stomach. 

They lay there and breathe, Dean's chest pressing against Castiel's back, until coherency begins to come back to them and when it does the first thing Dean says is, "I'm not going to the damn Farmer's Market."

Castiel wraps a hand around Dean's neck and turns his face until he can capture Dean's lips with his own. "Yes," he says in between kisses, "you are."

 

They lay in the hammock on the roof for a few more minutes discussing their plants and plans for the day and listening to the birds chirp happily in the distance and then Dean climbs off the hammock helping Castiel off after him.

"We're getting better at hammock sex, huh, baby?" Dean states with a smirk as he gathers up the afghan that will now need to be washed. "Didn't knock it over this time."

Castiel lets loose a small smile and a shake of his head and follows Dean down the stairs to their apartment.

 

The Farmer's Market is already bustling with people when they get there. The air has warmed considerably in the hour or so it's taken the two of them to get showered and drive over, and the market is bursting with color, flowers and trees in bloom everywhere.

As Castiel drags him from one stand to the next Dean grumbles about getting 'real food' at a 'real store', but Castiel just slips his fingers in between Dean's and drops a kiss on the other man's temple. After that, Dean grumbles just a little bit less.

When they pass by an elderly man selling bouquets of flowers wrapped in newspaper Dean stops and riffles through them, pulling out a bouquet of tulips in vibrant red, deep orange, and cheery yellow.

"What are those for?" Castiel asks as Dean pays the man and slides his wallet back into his back pocket.

"Miss Shelia," Dean explains, "I told her we'd come for lunch. Speaking of," Dean glances at his watch, "we should probably get going. We're supposed to be there in half an hour."

"Dean, no," Castiel protests.

Dean thanks the man and tugs Castiel away from the flower stand. "No, what?"

"No, I don't want to go to that woman's apartment for lunch. She makes me uncomfortable."

Dean glances sideways at him as they walk, an amused smile on his face, "She likes you, Cas, you remind her of her Charles." Dean says in an imitation of the elderly woman that lives on the first floor of their building.

"That's what makes me uncomfortable." Castiel grumbles.

"Well, sweetheart," Dean says, "you better brush up that charming smile of yours cause we're going."

They stop at two more stands, once for carrots and then for mint, and then Dean is ushering them towards the exit, both of them stepping over dogs and around children as they go.

 

"Why do you like that place so much?" Dean asks as he points the Impala towards home, "You're a fucking recluse until the Farmer's Market opens up and then it's like taking you to Disneyland."

Castiel shrugs as he rolls down the window letting the fresh Spring air twist through the Impala, ruffling his hair and making his nose itchy. "I like to see all the people," he states.

"You can see people at a normal grocery store," Dean points out.

Castiel shakes his head and fixes Dean with gentle blue eyes, "It's not the same," he says.

Dean's only response is a mumbled, "Whatever," and then they're on to other topics like Sam's wedding in three weeks and going camping when the weather warms up just a bit more.

 

When they get to Miss Shelia's the door is already open and Castiel can smell spices in the air and hear the rush of water coming from a tap.

In front of him Dean raps his knuckles against the door a few times and hollers, "Miss Shelia?" into the apartment.

A faint, "In here!" can be heard and then Castiel is following Dean into the elderly woman's home and closing the door behind them.

Miss Shelia pads out of her kitchen and greets them with a warm smile, wiping her hands on the tattered old apron tied around her waist. "Hello, boys," she says as she wraps her arms around Dean and then cups Castiel's face in her hands. She clucks her tongue at him and her eyes go misty and soft. "Just like my Charles," she mutters.

Castiel's cheeks heat under the attention and he offers her a weak smile before casting a glance at Dean who is, of course, standing with his arms folded across his chest, watching the exchange with a smirk on his face.

"He was so handsome," Shelia continues, her eyes roving over Castiel's face, "his eyes always reminded me of a stormy sea, just like yours." She tears her gaze away from Castiel for a brief moment to glance at Dean. "Don't his eyes remind you of a stormy sea, Dean?"

"They sure do," Dean agrees and Castiel quietly vows to get him at back for this later.

Shelia's eyes track back to Castiel's face and she looks at him a bit longer, her expression dreamy and her hands soft and warm on his face. No one says anything for a moment or two and then Dean is placing a hand gently on the small of Miss Shelia's back in a prompt to leave Castiel be.

"You can look all you want, Miss Shelia," he says good-naturedly, "but just remember, this one is mine not yours."

Against his will Castiel's heart melts a little at the fond smile the elderly woman offers him before patting his cheeks and then dropping her hands to her sides. "I know, honey," she states, "and a lucky man you are to have him."

"That I am," Dean says with a wink in Shelia's direction. Castiel relaxes with the woman's attentions elsewhere and he lets out a low chuckle when Dean hands the flowers over to Miss Shelia and she wraps him up in another hug, gushing her gratitude against his chest.

After their hellos they follow her into the kitchen where she puts the tulips in a vase of water and then the three of them settle around the table for a lunch of tuna sandwiches and pasta salad.

As they eat Miss Shelia asks Dean about school and Castiel about his art. She listens attentively with a pleasant grin on her face and when Dean elaborates on Castiel's work she reaches a hand across the table and settles it over one of Castiel's own.

"So talented," she states sweetly, "just like my Charles."

Dean smirks at him from across the table.

After lunch Shelia dishes them each up a hearty portion of blackberry pie and pours them both a glass of milk. "I made it just for you, Dean, honey," she says as she sets his piece down in front of him. "I know how much you like pie."

"Yes ma'am," Dean agrees happily. He shovels some into his mouth and moans around the bite appreciatively. It's quite enjoyable to watch if Castiel's being honest with himself, but then Dean is muttering, "This is delicious," with his mouth still full of pie and so Castiel elbows him in the ribs.

"Behave yourself," he chides.

Across the table Miss Shelia lets out a small laugh and shakes her head and though she doesn't say it, Castiel can see the unspoken, _"Just like my Charles,"_ glimmering in her eyes.

After dessert and a few more minutes of light chit chat they help with the dishes, thank Miss Shelia for lunch and head out, the uncomfortable tension in Castiel's shoulders not fully ebbing until they're half way up the stairs to their own apartment. 

When Castiel walks through the door Vincent bounds across the space and gets tangled in Castiel's ankles, mewling incessantly. He scoops down and picks the cat up, scratching behind its ears as he carries it over to its food dish and plops him down in front of it. He opens a can and dumps it into the dish, trailing a hand from Vincent's head down to his tail and then moving to throw the empty can away.

"I'm going up to the roof if you'd like to come," Castiel says as he locates the packet of seeds they'd purchased earlier that morning at the market.

"What're you doing up there?" Dean asks from where he's dropped himself onto the couch.

"Planting the rest of the seeds and weeding a few of the boxes. I want to get it done before it gets too hot."

Across the apartment he hears Dean sigh and then the groan of springs as Dean lifts himself off the couch.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean mumbles, "I'm coming."

 

Up on the roof they work side by side planting their new seeds and tending to the ones that are already starting to bloom. It's nice and quiet up on the roof, the sounds of the city a distant buzz below them, and more times than once Castiel finds himself stopping to admire the bunch of Dean's shoulders under the pull of his t-shirt as he weeds and waters and talks to the plants when he thinks Castiel can't hear him. In the end Castiel ends up getting very little work done.

When they've finished they take a couple of steps back to survey their work. None of the other tenants come up to the roof, Miss Shelia being too old to climb the stairs and Chuck being too drunk to care, and so over the past year they've treated it as their own. In one corner the daffodils they'd planted last year are starting to sprout and in another, rows of tomatoes and strawberries will soon be thriving.

After a few minutes they store their tools and climb onto the hammock, arranging themselves so that their weight is evenly distributed and the hammock rocks only minutely when a breeze crosses over them.

Around them the scents of Spring are beginning to be more pronounced in the air - honeysuckle, and fresh soil, and hints of the apricot trees that rest in the back of their building - and a feeling of contentment washes over Castiel as Dean pulls him close to his chest and kisses his forehead.

They lay there quietly, listening to the faint buzz of bees and the rustle of tree leaves when the wind tickles through their branches, a long awaited serenity showing itself in the puffy clouds above them and the rays of sun spilling across their skin, and Castiel feels as if the whole world has slowed down just for them to be able to enjoy this moment.

 After a few minutes, Dean rubs a hand up Castiel's back. "I like it up here," he says, his eyes soft and his smile gentle.

Castiel presses their lips together before muttering quietly, "Me too."


End file.
